Shelter
by Afroza-IX
Summary: AU-fic. Teresa Lisbon works as a volunteer at a shelter for troubled and homeless teens. After losing one of them to illness she throws herself headlong into work, can some new arrivals help her to open up again? T but may go up to M in later chapters.
1. A Matter of Life and Death

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist, or any of the related characters. Any characters you recognise the names of are (C) to Bruno Heller and Warner Bros. Others, like Carrie, are my own.  
**

**A/N: I'm not totally sure where this came from. I think I just picked up on Teresa's mothering nature and wanted to write something about it. This is, of course, totally AU and Teresa is a little OOC, as are some of the other characters, but if people like it I'll definately try to continue.**

* * *

**_Chapter 1: A Matter of Life and Death_**

Teresa Lisbon stepped into the shelter with a feeling of trepidation writhing in her gut. She could tell that today was going to be a long one, one way or another. The smell of fresh soup and pancakes greeted her nostrils as it wafted from the kitchen and wound its way through the communal sleeping area. She could tell by looking at the mattresses that it had been a quiet night, but those who had slept there were clearly awake and probably eating now. Blankets and thin duvets had been thrown haphazardly on the floor, and drag lines next to the mattresses spoke of bags being grabbed and flung over shoulders on the way to the small canteen. The kids who stayed here were protective of their possessions and refused to leave them lying around unattended. Living rough bred those kinds of habits. With a small sigh she made her way towards the kitchen to see what help she could provide there.

* * *

An older, balding man stood over the hob, steam rising as he cooked breakfast for the shelter. Though with all the pots and pans bubbling and spitting it looked more like he was trying to feed a small army,

"Morning, Virgil." Teresa called, stepping across the threshold, "Need a hand?" Virgil span to face her, a spatula in his left hand and a ladle in his right,

"Teresa!" He replied brightly, a hint of surprise in his voice, "Good morning. I wasn't expecting you in today." She quirked her eyebrow at him and walked further into the room,

"Really, Virgil?" She asked incredulously, "We both know you were expecting me back, you were just hoping I'd take some time for once." He held his utensil-clad hands up in mock surrender,

"You got me. Guilty as charged." He responded jokingly, "But really, Teresa –"

"Kids we take care of die all the time, Virgil." She stated matter-of-factly as she grabbed the ladle from him and set to work dishing out some of the soup her colleague had been making,

"I know they do, Teresa." He told her sympathetically, "But you and Sam were close." She shrugged,

"We knew he was ill. I was prepared." She countered, refusing to meet her colleague's eyes as she continued to dish out the soup. He shook his head sadly,

"Not as prepared as you like to think." Teresa bit her lip. She could feel her resolve slipping, tears threatening to burst through the dam she had built up,

"I... I just need to work, Virgil." She half-muttered, "I need to help the ones that _can_ be saved." The older man let out a sigh. She reminded him of himself when he was younger,

"I know, Teresa... just remember that I'm always here if you need to talk." His efforts were rewarded with a small smile,

"I know, Virgil. Thank you." She replied gratefully. Grabbing some of the soup-filled dishes she made her way out. Just before the door she paused, "By the way, Virgil, I meant to ask..."

"Hm?" He looked at her expectantly, watching as a smirk emerged on her face,

"Are you feeding the five thousand, or was it four giants sleeping on those mattresses last night?" The two of them chuckled as Teresa left for the canteen and Virgil turned back to his cooking, a smile still playing about his lips.

* * *

"Morning, guys." Teresa smiled upon entering the dining area, "I've got some of Virgil's best soup for you." The four teens situated at various tables around the room looked up,

"Finally!" A brunette girl piped up enthusiastically. Teresa laughed as she set the soup out,

"He been torturing you all with the smell again, Carrie?" She asked with a small smirk,

"Has he ever." Carrie replied grabbing a spoon and pulling her bowl towards her, "We've been sittin' here for ages. Our stomachs were growlin' louder than a Grizzly!"

"Well in that case," Teresa said to the young girl, "you better tuck in. Besides, there's enough soup in that kitchen to feed an army." She cast a glance back to the door where she saw Virgil emerging with a plate piled with pancakes, "He thinks he's feeding the five thousand." She said raising her voice,

"I heard that!" Next to her Carrie suppressed a giggle,

"You were supposed to." Teresa told him with a smile. Virgil rolled his eyes at her and set the pancakes down on one of the centre tables,

"You're a bad influence on these children, Teresa Lisbon." He joked with an exaggerated shake of his head,

"I'm not the one torturing them with the smell of my cooking." She shot back, the smirk still firmly in place,

"Good job too. You couldn't cook your way out of a paper bag." Her colleague countered, "They'd all be choking on the fumes." Snorts of laughter filled the room and the two shelter volunteers looked at each other before they too fell about laughing.

* * *

It wasn't until after breakfast, when everyone began clearing the plates, dishes and cutlery away, that any of them spoke again. Teresa was on her way back into the canteen after depositing a small pile of plates on the work surface of the kitchen when Carrie, the young brunette, stopped her,

"Miss Lisbon, I'm sorry about Sam." The teenager said softly, "He was a nice guy... I liked him."

"T-thank you, Carrie." Teresa stuttered, "I... he was a good kid." Carrie shifted on the spot nervously,

"I... I drew this for him..." She mumbled sifting through her worn backpack and producing a slightly crumpled piece of sketch paper, "but I want you to have it..." The shelter volunteer took the piece of paper and let her eyes soak up the image. Tears gathered in her eyes at Carrie's drawing. It was so beautiful, so lifelike, "I know he really liked you... but if you don't like it -" Teresa shook her head,

"No, Carrie, this is beautiful... I love it." She said softly, holding the sketch of her and Sam to her chest. The brunette's eyes sparkled with happiness, "Thank you. Sam would have adored it."

"You think so?" Teresa smiled,

"Think so?" She asked, "I know so... where did you learn to draw like this, Carrie? It's incredible." Carrie blushed,

"I taught myself." She mumbled, "I got offered an Art scholarship for the summer... to help me learn more."

"Carrie, that's fantastic!" Teresa grinned embracing the teenager, "Congratulations."

"Thanks, Miss Lisbon." Carrie smiled nervously back,

"How many times have I told you to call me Teresa?"

"Sorry, Teresa." The shelter volunteer laughed lightly at the teenager's embarrassment,

"It's okay, Carrie. Just remember it for next time, okay?" Carrie nodded and let out a small murmur of agreement, "Good. Now don't you have some amazing artwork to get back to?" The teenager blushed slightly and smiled,

"Thanks, Teresa." With that the young brunette pulled her backpack on and headed back towards the canteen. Teresa watched as she left and took another long look at the sketch. _Sam really would have loved this._

* * *

Teresa was glad for the quiet start to the day; she wasn't sure how well she could deal with a hectic teen-filled shelter when her mind was still reeling from the loss of Sam. But she knew the serenity of the morning couldn't last. The shelter rarely remained quiet for long. Right on cue the voice of Madeline Hightower carried into the building,

"Virgil! Teresa!" The panic was clear in her voice and was more than enough to send both volunteers running to the source.

When they reached her Madeline was gently lowering the shaking form of a teen onto one of the mattresses,

"Shh, now." She said softly, "Shh, it's okay. You're going to be okay."

"Madeline, what happened?" Virgil asked as he rushed over, Teresa close behind him. The concern was clear on both their faces,

"A bunch of gang kids were beating him up." Madeline replied shakily, "From what I saw he fought back, but he was outnumbered by a long way." Teresa knelt down next to the mattress and tenderly stroked a thumb over the boy's forehead,

"He should be in a hospital, Madeline." She told her colleague softly,

"I know, Teresa. He wouldn't let me call an ambulance." The coloured woman responded, "That was the one thing he told me. No hospital." Virgil sighed next to her,

"Then we better help him the best we can. Come on, Madeline; let's go get the first aid kit." He replied guiding her away with a hand on her arm and leaving their colleague alone with the boy. Teresa gripped the cross hanging around her neck.

_What did you ever do to deserve this?_

* * *

**Can you guess who it is Madeline found? I think I put enough clues in to give you a good idea ;)  
**

**Please do review and let me know what you think - also if you spot any mistakes please do let me know.  
**

**Afroza-IX  
**


	2. Kimball

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or any of the related characters. Any characters you recognise the names of are (C) Bruno Heller and Warner Bros. Any you don't are my own.  
**

**A/N: So, Chapter 2 guys, and earlier than I expected. I won't be able to update again for a while as I have important exams coming up that I really need to revise for. But I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks to Janey, MentalistLover and MeggieGirl for reviewing the first chapter and to everyone who added this story to their favourites or story alert list. I appreciate it guys.**

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Kimball**_

Teresa knelt next to the mattress murmuring soothing words to the battered teenage boy as she waited for Madeline and Virgil to return. He seemed so small and vulnerable, though if Madeline's story were true he was far stronger and more determined than he appeared. No matter how many times she heard the stories and saw the results she was amazed by what people, especially kids, could do to each other. This boy was one of many, a victim of teen-gang violence, albeit a determined victim who refused to back down without a fight of his own. She wondered absently if his parents knew he was out, if they were worried about their child. Most of the kids who ended up in the shelter didn't have the luxury of a worrying parent.

* * *

She heard her colleagues before she saw them. The rhythmic tap of shoes on the wooden floor alerted her to their approach. Turning her head she saw the two of them approaching with the first aid kit and icepacks in hand. As Teresa went to stand up and take an icepack from Madeline she felt a hand gripping her arm, willing her to stay. She stared the teen whose hand had grabbed her. He was surprisingly strong, especially for someone in his predicament, but it wasn't the strength of the grip that made her stare at him. It was the look in his eyes. Haunted. In pain. Fearful. She knelt back down next to him and took his hand in hers,

"It's okay, buddy." She said softly as she stroked her thumb over his hand, "I'm not going anywhere." His body seemed to relax at the words,

"My name's not buddy." He breathed. Teresa had the feeling that if he weren't so tired and weak he'd be vehemently protesting against her nickname of choice,

"No?" He shook his head, "What is your name then?" The boy went silent and turned his head away. She picked up on the message almost immediately, "Hey, it's okay." She reassured him softly, "We won't call the police or you parents if you don't want us to." Slowly he turned his head back to face her. Their eyes met and, for a moment, she opened all her emotions to him. _You and I are the same. We're both hurting. _She saw the flicker of recognition cross his eyes, the understanding that she wasn't going to make him do anything he didn't want to,

"Kimball." He murmured. She smiled at him, glad that he was opening up to her, even if it was only a little,

"Nice to meet you, Kimball. I'm Teresa."

* * *

Kimball let out a strangled half-whimper and tightened his grip on Teresa's hand as Virgil probed his ribs to check for any signs or serious injury. The sheer willpower and strength of this boy amazed her, any other child would have likely screamed out in pain. She had the first time anything like this had happened to her. After that it had become easier and easier to see it as normal, to feel like her skin and bones were made of steel and not the delicate, easily broken cells that they really were. She froze suddenly, her whole body stiffening in protest at the thought that had crept unwelcomed into her head. Teresa suppressed the urge to ask Kimball any questions and instead continued to stroke her thumb rhythmically over his hand in an attempt to soothe him. Right now they had to concentrate on helping him, not churning up unfavourable memories – there would be plenty of time for that later.

* * *

By the time Virgil and Madeline had finished checking him over and patching him up Kimball had begun to look a lot like a patchwork quilt. Bruises and cuts littered his small body, some covered with bandages whilst others were left to the open air, and his clothing was bloodied and torn. Teresa had the feeling that the blood wasn't all his, but she made no comment on the matter. It was too early to be probing the teen for answers on that subject,

"Are you hungry, Kimball?" Madeline asked him with a small smile. Kimball remained silent but gave her a short nod in response, his stomach gurgling quietly as if to emphasise his point,

"We have some soup left over from this morning." Virgil offered. Teresa resisted the urge to make a sarcastic remark about just how much soup they did have left from the older volunteer's earlier cooking session, "I'll go get you a bowl." He picked himself up off the floor and headed for the kitchen leaving the two female volunteers with the teenager, who hadn't spoken since he had told them his name. She wasn't sure why it was that Kimball remained quiet. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen this kind of behaviour before, far from it in fact, Teresa had seen many teenagers scared into silence, or even just refusing to speak to anyone they regarded as a stranger or a threat (or, indeed, both). But somehow that didn't seem to fit here. Perhaps Kimball was just a boy of few words. Whatever the case she was determined to get him to speak more. They would need him to if they were ever going to try and fix the damage that had been done.

* * *

Despite his bruised jaw Kimball had no trouble devouring the soup provided for him, and Virgil found himself making another trip to the kitchen for seconds,

"Have you got somewhere to stay?" Teresa questioned gently as Virgil took his empty bowl to wash up. Kimball shook his head. The teenager had still said little beyond his name and a quiet 'Thank you' when presented with his meal. Teresa wasn't sure whether to be worried or just thankful that he had spoken at all. She thought about it for a moment, realising that her concern was misplaced. Some of the children she met hadn't spoken until their sixth or seventh day at the shelter; others had become altogether mute and only related their experiences to the volunteers through writing or drawing. She herself had been something of a selective mute in her early teens. Besides that Kimball's jaw was pretty badly bruised, speaking wasn't going to be an easy or pleasant task, "You can stay here if you like, Kimball. Just pick a mattress and I'll get you a blanket and cushion, okay?" The boy nodded,

"Here." He replied shortly, patting his right hand on the mattress he was sat on. Madeline put a hand on Teresa's arm,

"I'll go get him a blanket and cushion, Teresa." She told her colleague as she got up and headed for the wardrobe where they kept all their spare sheets, blankets and cushions,

"Thanks, Madeline." Teresa replied gratefully as she and Kimball were left alone again.

* * *

"Mind if I sit down, Kimball?" She asked, motioning to the mattress on which he was sat. He shook his head. _No._ Teresa smiled and took a seat next to the teen, wrapping her arms around her knees as she contemplated how to approach talking to him. He watched her intently, his eyes travelling to where her arms hugged her legs. He gave her a questioning look, "Holding my legs like this used to make me feel safe when I was younger." Teresa explained, seeing an opening, a way of starting their conversation, "I think I was thirteen when I first started sitting like this."

"Why?" Kimball asked. The question threw her a little, though it could refer to any part of her previous statements she knew what it was the teen was asking her. _Why did you start sitting like that?_ She tightened her hold on her legs, craving the feeling of safety it brought,

"Someone beat me." She replied, surprising herself with just how calmly the words came out, "I was scared, so I curled up and I held my legs like this and I realised that it made me feel safer." Though he said nothing Teresa could see by his face that Kimball understood, at least in part,

"Who?" She flinched at the question. Her past had never been a good topic with her, even when that past had been her present. She had never been good at talking things through, but right now she knew that it was the only way to get Kimball to feel more comfortable about opening up to her,

"Someone I knew." She replied, hoping that the vague answer would satisfy the teen's curiosity. She let out a sigh of relief as he nodded in understanding and fell silent.

For a while the silence lingered as if the weight of her admission had scared away all voices. Eventually, feeling uneasy at the lack of sound, Teresa spoke,

"So, you don't like hospitals?" She asked the teenager sat next to her. He shook his head, but even without the gesture she could tell that he didn't at all. The very mention of the word had him hunching up and stiffening, "I don't blame you. I never liked them either."

"None of us like them." It was the longest utterance Kimball had made since telling her his name,

"Your family?" Teresa questioned, somewhat confused by his response. He shook his head again,

"The gang." He replied. Suddenly everything made sense. The gang violence, the fighting back, the pure strength and willpower, his hatred of hospitals. It all slotted into place. Kimball was a gang member.

* * *

**So, did you guess that it was Kimball? Who do you reckon is going to turn up next?  
**

**If you spot any mistakes let me know. Reviews and crits are welcomed with open arms, I'd love to know what you think.  
**

**Afroza-IX  
**


	3. Passing Out and Losing Faith

**A/N: Chapter 3 is here. I've finished my exams now so I'll have a little more time to write this. This has been a long time in the making, I've been piecing it together since I finished Chapter 2 and it provided some respite between revision and exams. Thanks again to MeggieGirl for the kind review and thanks to all who have added this to their story alerts. I really appreciate it.**

* * *

_**Chapter 3: Passing Out and Losing Faith**_

_Gang._ The word left a bitter taste in her mouth, even after all these years, and she sat frozen, her body refusing to move as her mind processed what this meant. Even as Madeline's voice floated in through the haze to let her know that she had brought over the bedding for Kimball, Teresa could do nothing but sit as memories came unbidden into her head and played like a movie before her eyes.

* * *

When she next opened her eyes she found herself staring up at a slightly grubby looking ceiling. She frowned in confusion,

"You're awake." Virgil's voice stated with a hint of relief. _Way to state the obvious._ She looked to her left to find the older volunteer kneeling next to her,

"What - ?"

"You passed out." Virgil stated, answering her unfinished question, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Teresa murmured, trying to sit up,

"Forgive me for pointing out the flaw in your argument, Teresa," Madeline said as she and Virgil helped their colleague into a sitting position, "but people who are fine don't pass out at work."

"You can't argue with her logic." Virgil stated matter-of-factly as he offered a cup of water to the recently awoken volunteer which she accepted and sipped from slowly,

"I - ..." Teresa trailed off, unsure of what to say, and stared at the cup as though it might present her with an answer. It did no such thing. She wanted to tell them the truth of the matter, but she was hesitant to do so,

"Teresa?" Virgil probed gently,

"Kimball mentioned being in a _gang_ and I... I guess I just..." She trailed off again, unable to form the sentence, "This hasn't happened in so long... I thought I'd got over it..." The older volunteer's expression softened,

"Teresa..." He sighed sadly in understanding, "That wasn't your fault. He never blamed you. No one ever blamed you." She looked at him, her eyes glittering with the threat of tears,

"I know, Virgil, but..." she shook her head, "I can't help thinking that I should have seen. That I should have stopped him and helped him..." Teresa bit her lip and stared at the floor, "They nearly killed him. If someone hadn't found him, Virgil..." Madeline stood bemused as the conversation between her colleagues unfolded,

"Teresa, look at me." The brunette lifted her eyes to his face, but made no real effort to face him, "_Look_ at me." Virgil repeated, more forcefully this time. Reluctantly she relented, "All of you were in a dark place." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a commanding finger and continued regardless, "You had just recovered. You were just getting to grips with everything. You couldn't possibly be expected to continue to look after the others as well. You are _not _to blame." Biting her lip again Teresa nodded, knowing he was right. She couldn't help but blame herself. She was the one who was supposed to take care of them, to provide what their father couldn't,

"Sorry if I scared you." She said eventually,

"Scared me? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Madeline teased, "But you're forgiven just as long as you try not to do that again."

"I'll try, Madeline." Teresa replied with a ghost of a smile,

"I think Kimball was more concerned than we were." Virgil added, leaving his younger colleague in stunned silence,

"Really?" She asked after a while,

"Really." He confirmed, "I think you should probably go over there and let him know you're okay." A small smiled crept onto her lips,

"I think I will."

* * *

Kimball watched the three volunteers closely as they spoke, gauging Teresa's hesitant reactions and nervous posture with interest. She had been far more confident when she had last spoken to him and far gentler, but now he saw a manifestation of the look he had seen in her eyes when they had first met. The emotions she had allowed him to be privy to, if only for a few seconds. As the volunteers' conversation continued he could see her relax a little. The Korean boy was still wary of Madeline and Virgil, despite knowing that the former had brought him to safety in the first place and the latter had quite happily gone out of his way to get him some food, but the way Teresa allowed herself to relax around them spoke volumes. She was damaged and she let them help her. They were trustworthy people.

Though he would never admit it out loud being in a foreign environment scared Kimball and he had barely moved since his arrival. This part of the shelter was safe and he knew that, but he didn't know about the rest of it. He couldn't be sure that there wasn't any danger and staying put was his best bet, especially unarmed as he was. His eyes followed Teresa as she approached, her whole body more relaxed now,

"Hey, Kimball." She said softly, kneeling down so that the two of them were more at eye-level with each other, "Sorry if I scared you earlier. You shouldn't have had to see that." The corner of the volunteer's mouth twitched into a small sympathetic smile. Kimball merely shrugged,

"It's okay." He murmured pausing as he fiddled with his thumbs, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you, Kimball." She replied genuinely, "Can I sit down?" The teenager nodded. _Yes_. She lowered herself onto the mattress next to him and unconsciously readopted her 'safe' position, arms clutched tightly around her knees, "I know that it can be frightening, being in place you don't know with complete strangers, even for a tough cookie like you." The words came flowing freely from her mouth, genuine and gentle, "Especially when one of those strangers passes out on you." She added lightly, eliciting a ghost of a smile from Kimball, "But I need you to know that you're safe here, no matter what happens, and you can talk to anyone here about anything. Anything at all. What you choose to talk about and when is entirely up to you, but if you want to talk there will always be someone in this building who will listen. Even the other kids. Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled softly. It was certainly a start.

* * *

Next to her Kimball yawned. It caught quickly and Teresa found herself yawning too,

"You must be tired." She said glancing up at the clock which hung on the wall opposite. It was getting late and she was well aware of the rest the teenager would need in order to help his body heal, "Get some rest, okay?" She told him as she stood up, "The others will be coming in to sleep soon." Another yawn escaped her mouth, making her realise just how tired she was and just how little sleep she had managed to get since Sam's death, "Looks like I need some sleep too." She joked, faking a laugh. Sleep was doubtful, "If you need anything – anything at all – there's a phone in the corner. I'm 2 on speed-dial. Don't be afraid to wake me up if you need to talk, okay?" Kimball nodded, but the gesture was reluctant, something which didn't escape Teresa's notice,

"Stay." He murmured, staring up at her in fear and desperation. Her heart clenched at the sight,

"You want me to stay here tonight?" The teen nodded in confirmation, "I... well... I guess I can do that." Tension slowly seemed to dissolve from Kimball's body at the reply, "Just let me talk to Virgil, alright?" Another nod. She took a deep breath. Virgil was not going to like this.

* * *

"Teresa, you should be at home mourning. Besides, you need to rest; you passed out for God's sake!" She flinched, despite having predicted the verbal onslaught from her fellow volunteer,

"Virgil, this kid is scared out of his mind. He's been beaten up, he's in a strange place filled with people he's never met, and all he's asked all day is that I stay here tonight." She argued, her voice not quite as solid and demanding as she had hoped it would be,

"Teresa - "

"The kids are more important, Virgil, they come first no matter what. You taught me that when you agreed to help me that first day." Teresa felt awful the moment the words left her mouth. Turning Virgil's own actions against him, ones that had saved her life no less,

"Don't you turn this around on me, Teresa." Virgil replied dangerously, furious at the way she was trying to twist his arm. He saw her point though. He was being hypocritical, telling her she couldn't do something that he himself would do given the same situation,

"These kids are the only thing keeping me going!" She snapped back, the words leaving her mouth before she even realised what she was saying. By the time she did the moment had passed. There was no taking them back,

"Teresa," His tone softened slightly, "I thought we got past this." The muscles in her jaw contracted and she stared at the floor ashamedly,

"Virgil, please." She all but begged, "Just tonight. You can stay and keep an eye on me if it makes you feel any better, but I need to do this." A defeated sigh left Virgil's lips,

"Alright. Fine." He agreed uneasily. He hoped he was making the right decision for both Teresa and Kimball, "But don't think for a minute that I've forgotten what you said, Teresa. We will talk about this later."

"Thank you, Virgil." The relief was clear in her voice, "I'm going to make myself a coffee, would you like one?"

"You know how I like it." He replied, smiling despite himself. As she left he couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't seen it. He had known her for years, had seen her at her worst and her best, how could he not have noticed that she her faith was slipping again?

* * *

**More characters will come in soon-ish, I want to try and explore Kimball's predicament a little more first though.  
**

**If you spot any mistakes or have any questions, let me know. Reviews and crits are welcomed as always - I'd really like to know what you think.  
**

**Afroza-IX  
**


	4. A Question of Understanding

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait - I had a mild writer's block and was on holiday for a week so that got in the way a little. However, Chapter 4 is now here! Thankyou to MeggieGirl for reviewing regularly and to everyone who has added Shelter to their alerts or favourites. I appreciate it - it's nice to know people are out there enjoying my writing :) Now, without further ado...**

* * *

_**Chapter 4: A Question of Understanding**_

After she had lain out her bedding for the night, Teresa made her way back over to Kimball to let him know what was going on. The teenager had still barely shifted from his position on the mattress and it was clearly becoming a safe spot for him,

"I talked to Virgil. He and I will be staying here tonight, so if you need anything you just find one of us." He nodded, "If we're asleep just go ahead and wake us up, okay? We won't mind." She smiled tiredly, "I'll be just over there," Teresa pointed to a mattress towards the entrance of the shelter, "and if I'm not, I'll be just through those doors in the canteen." Kimball yawned and nodded again, "Some other kids might come in during the night, so the light over by my mattress will be on all night okay?"

"Okay." He replied in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. Truthfully he wasn't at all keen on the idea. Anyone from the gang could just waltz in to the shelter and take him away if they figured out where Madeline had taken him, and the thought of them getting to him and beating him again made Kimball feel sick. Teresa seemed to sense this discomfort and squatted down in front of him,

"Hey," She said gently, "we won't let anyone hurt you." _I won't let anyone hurt you. No one is going to end up like Tommy on my watch._ "I know gangs are scary and dangerous-"

"Stop acting like you understand everything." The teenager said suddenly, "You don't know anything about gangs." She froze for a moment, the cynicism and level tone of his voice catching her by surprise. His words were like a punch to the face, and the matter-of-fact manner in which he spoke them only served to make them sting all the more. _He wasn't to know, Teresa. He wasn't to know._ She repeated the words like a mantra, over and over in her head in an attempt to prevent herself from breaking down there and then.

* * *

The moment the words left his lips Kimball knew he had said something which upset the volunteer. Teresa was frozen in front of him, eyes staring down at the floor but not really seeing what was there. Her whole body was tensed up as though waiting for a fierce blow to strike and, despite her effort to hide them, he could see tears gathering in her eyes,

"I'm sorry." The teenager murmured, not sure what he was apologising for. The corner of Teresa's lip twitched into a sad smile as her body relaxed and a stray tear wound its way down her cheek,

"It's okay." She responded in a slightly strangled voice which suggested that she was anything but, "You're tired and you're scared, and you have every right to be. You also have every right to question my understanding." She met Kimball's eyes. He could see pain and sadness mingling with regret and relief, but all emotions were quickly cut off again as she began to speak evenly to him, "I'll let you in on a secret." She told him, "I questioned Virgil's understanding when I first came here. I still do sometimes."

"Why?" The boy asked. It struck him as strange that the volunteer was uncertain of her co-worker's capabilities,

"I didn't think he understood what my brothers and I were going through. He kept telling me 'I know' and 'I understand', but I wasn't sure that he did. I still wonder about it, he never went through what we did, how could he understand what we were going through?" Teresa sighed, "Listen, Kimball, no one can understand every possibility or eventuality. But I guarantee that there will always be someone here who will understand at least part of what you're going through."

"How do you-?"

"How do I know that there will always be someone here who understands?" He nodded, "Because we've had a lot of teenagers come through here, Kimball, and each of them have helped us to understand what it is they're going through. Some of the other teens here will understand parts of what is happening to you because it has happened to them and Madeline, Virgil and I, we're not without our past problems. You just have to give us a chance." The teenager sat unmoving. Teresa's words were genuine and heartfelt, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. The volunteer saved him the trouble however, "My younger brother Tommy was thirteen when he first joined a gang. I think he enjoyed the rebellion. It gave him an outlet for all the emotions he couldn't deal with. But a few years down the line I ended up in this free clinic... ill, and he decided that he needed to leave to be with his family." Suddenly Kimball could see why she had become so emotional after he had questioned her understanding of gang culture. Tommy had done exactly what he had, "So he told them, and you know what they did?" The boy barely had time to open his mouth before she answered for him, "They grabbed him, they held him down and they beat him to within an inch of his life. Then they left him to die." By now tears were flowing freely down Teresa's cheeks, the memories still sharp and painful despite the number of years that had passed, "If someone hadn't walked into that alley when they did..." She took several deep breaths to steady and calm herself, "You're lucky that you're here at all, Kimball, and not in some hospital bed or on some slab in a morgue somewhere. Believe me when I say I know what you're going through, and I will be here if you need to talk to me, no matter what." Stunned the teenager nodded, words failing him completely. Never had anyone been so brutally honest with him before and he found himself feeling touched that Teresa had shared such a bitter and painful memory with him in order to try and help.

* * *

Exhausted by her breakdown, Teresa once again wished Kimball a good night and made her way over to the well-used mattress at the shelter entrance. She was thankful for the relatively quiet night. No one but Kimball had seen her shaking and crying like a child and it wasn't until after she had calmed down that the other teens had begun to make their way to their chosen 'beds' for the night. By the time Virgil came over to see how she was doing her eyes were no longer red and puffy from the tears and she managed a believable fake smile, though her co-worker remained unconvinced.

Her mind wandered back to what she had told Kimball about questioning Virgil's understanding. She still remembered the first time the two of them had met and the onslaught of questions she had attacked the older man with and how she hadn't believed that he could possibly understand what she was going through. There were times when she still didn't believe, but she knew that Virgil had his own share of issues and, at the time, he had been the only person who truly understood any of what she struggled with. Now he was probably the only person in the world who could read her like a book and there would always be a part of her that was eternally grateful for that.

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**Please do review if you have the time. I appreciate any kind of feedback, good and bad, and I'd like to know what you like or dislike about the fic. **

**Also I'm going to shamelessly plug commissions that I'm taking on deviantART. I'm trying to raise money for Cancer Research UK, so if you have the time please visit my deviantART page and take a look at my journal ( hinami . deviantart . com). Thank you! **

**Affy x**


	5. Night Terrors

_****_**First off I want to apologise for taking so long to update - I'm at Uni now and my main focus is my course, so I haven't really had much of a chance to write any side projects. Secondly, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I was struggling a little with how to move it along but I think this works. Reviews are, as always, welcomed and encouraged - let me know what you think! **

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_**Chapter 5: Night Terrors**_

Despite her exhaustion Teresa found herself unable to sleep. After her conversation with Kimball the images of Tommy had refused to leave her head and she feared reliving those moments should she close her eyes. It was hard enough coping with Sam's untimely death; if these memories kept visiting her too she wasn't sure how she would cope, or, indeed, if she would cope. No matter how much she denied it, to others and to herself, she knew that she was verging on a complete breakdown. It wouldn't be the first time either. She sighed and, quickly checking to see that Virgil and the others were asleep, got up before creeping into the canteen.

* * *

She sat alone on the table in the corner closest to the canteen doors. This was where Sam had sat when he had become too ill to move far but remained stubborn enough to refuse to go to the hospice she and Virgil had found for him. It broke her heart to watch him struggling, to know how frustrated he was that he couldn't do a lot for himself despite the brave face he put on for them all. Teresa clenched her teeth, trying not to cry. She knew she should be at home mourning his loss, but she felt closer to him here. All her memories of him were here, good and bad, and she wanted to be where she could see them clearly.

"Teresa." The voice was quiet, but the volunteer started at it all the same. She turned her head to see Kimball standing in the doorway, shaking slightly, "Sorry... I... can't sleep." She gave him a tired smile,

"Nightmares?" The boy nodded hesitantly, "Me too, come in and sit down." Teresa patted the chair next to her. Kimball accepted the offer, sitting awkwardly on the seat, hands in his lap, eyes towards the ground, "You wanna talk about it?" He remained quiet, shifting in his seat, clearly he wasn't sure, "It's okay if you don't. I won't force you to talk about anything you don't want to."

"The gang." _Of course._

"That's what your nightmares were about?" Kimball nodded slowly,

"They were coming to beat me up and I couldn't run away or fight back." He stopped and looked up at her, as if to check that she was listening, so she gave him a nod to encourage him to continue, "They told David that he had to do it. So he did."

"David?" She asked,

"My friend... I live with him." Her heart sank as realisation dawned on her, "We were in the gang together... I joined after him... I wanted to protect him..." The boy squeezed his eyes shut,

"Oh, Kimball," Teresa murmured as tears began to escape from the corner of Kimball's eyes, "I'm sorry... "

"I'm scared. I don't want them to find me." Before he knew what was happening, the volunteer had pulled him into a hug,

"I know, Kimball. I know."

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For a while the two remained where they were, craving the comfort that the hug brought. But for Teresa the comfort brought a new kind of fear - the fear of having to cope with another loss should the unspeakable happen – and she pulled away with tears in her eyes. _I can't do it again. I can't bury another child._ Kimball stared up at her, confused by the way she was acting. It was clear, though, that the hug, and the talk, had calmed his nerves significantly. _Stop being so selfish, Teresa. Kimball needs help and he trusts you. You can do this. _

"Are you okay?" The boy asked eventually, taking Teresa by surprise. She let out a laugh,

"I'm supposed to be the one asking you." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes and resting her hands on the table, "I'm..." She tried to think of the words to explain what was wrong, "I'm just remembering some bad times..." 

"Your nightmares." The volunteer smiled sadly,

"Yes, my nightmares." She said, feeling like a child again in her inability to make eye contact with Kimball, "We're all scared of something, Kimball, but sometimes talking about what we're scared of makes us feel a bit better about it."

"What are you scared of?" He asked,

"A lot of things." Teresa said matter-of-factly. "But mostly I'm scared of losing the people I love. What about you, Kimball, what are you scared of?"

"The gang finding me. My friends dying." She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together,

"I can't guarantee your friends' safety, but I can promise that you're safe here. We won't let the gang find you." Kimball nodded in understanding and gave the volunteer an unexpected hug,

"Thank you."

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The unlikely pair spent the rest of the night talking in the canteen, neither daring to go to sleep for fear of their nightmares returning. Teresa told Kimball about how she and the eldest of her brothers, along with help from Virgil, had managed to get Tommy out of the gang he had been a member of. The boy listened carefully before telling her why he lived with David and how he came to be a member of the Avon Park Playboys. The topics of conversation were sombre, but by the end of the night Teresa felt lighter, and happier than she had since before Sam's death.

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**In the next chapter we'll be moving away from Kimball's issues a little to allow new characters to enter. Who do you think will be the next team member to make an appearance? Hopefully the next chapter will be here quicker than this one xD; **

**Again, reviews and crits are always welcomed. I love to know how I can improve and what you liked about the fic. Also, Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays guys - I hope you all have an awesome holiday season and a Happy New Year :) **

**Affy x **


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